All That's Left is a Ghost of You
by Pikapegasus
Summary: Natasha is deeply troubled, and her team isn't sure why. Or, maybe it's the other way around? Based on the song "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men. WARNING: This oneshot is pretty much "Age of Ultron" gone wrong.


_I don't like walking around this old and empty house.  
><em>

_So, hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear. _

* * *

><p>Natasha walked slowly through the tower, taking her time as her sock-covered feet softly hit the floor with each step. Gliding through a hallway, she rubbed her arms, feeling a sudden moment of cold air.<p>

The thermostat on the wall said differently, as it recorded the temperature on the floor as well over seventy degrees Fahrenheit. She had tried getting rid of the cold feeling earlier that day by cranking the heat up, but it didn't work.

In truth, it wasn't cold at all, not even outside.

Briefly pausing as she came upon the entrance to one of the many communal rooms of the penthouse, Clint, sitting inside, called out to her.

"Hey, Tasha!" His face was beaming with a bright smile, and he held up one of his many arrows in one hand. "I'm fixing up my boomerang arrow, and I could use a hand."

He evaluated her troubled appearance for a moment, taking notice of her slightly disheveled hair up in a messy bun, and the dark bags under her eyes. "You look like you could use some stress-free fun. Come on, Nat, my middle name isn't 'fun' for nothing!"

Clint's middle name was Francis, so the initial was at least the same, but Natasha didn't comment.

Instead, she just shook her head, her expression fragile. A small smile crossed her lips briefly, and she turned him down politely. "No thanks, I've got some things to do." Her voice shook, much to her distaste.

And, of course, Clint noticed. His face grew more serious, and he stood, ready to approach her. "Natasha, maybe we should talk about it."

"No, that will not be necessary. I-I'm just tired, that's all. I'm going to go take a nap." Natasha, taking a step back, further into the shadows of the hallway, hastily reassured Clint.

He took a step forward, wearing a frown. "You never mumble, Tasha. What's going on?"

"Nothing." She turned away before she could see his face again, and continued her trek down the hall before Clint could reply.

* * *

><p><em>The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake. <em>

_It's the house telling you to close your eyes._

* * *

><p>As she resumed walking, her pace quicker now, she nearly ran Bruce over. The scientist hadn't been paying much attention while walking, as he quickly tightened his grip on the tablet in his hands to avoid dropping it at the near collision.<p>

"I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't see you there." Bruce spoke softly, as he always did. An apologetic smile occupied his face, and Natasha felt bad.

"No, no, it's okay, I wasn't looking either." As her sentence progressed, her talking turned more into a mumble, again, and she cast her gaze down to the floor.

Bruce paused for a moment. "You look like you could use some rest, Natasha. As a doctor, I am telling you to do just that."

She didn't reply. Bruce then pat her shoulder gently - it felt so real, so genuine - and she gave him a quick nod before walking around him, leaving him behind in the dark hallway.

Natasha briefly remembered the time when the Avengers assembled for the first time, and she was scared of Bruce because of the Other Guy. The fear plagued her mind for weeks afterward, rising up in her throat every time she saw the man.

Luckily, as she got to know Bruce, he learned how to better control the Hulk, and she was able to conquer her fears. They grew close, and it was not uncommon for Bruce to give her gentle, amiable physical contact, such as pats on the shoulder, or a warm embrace after a bad day or mission.

Shaking off the memory, Natasha trudged on, holding a hand to her head with a grimace. A sudden migraine after her encounter with Bruce drove her to head in the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

><p><em>Some days I can't even dress myself. <em>

_It's killing me to see you this way..._

* * *

><p>The cold feeling went away, and she let her arms resume their natural places at her sides. As she entered the kitchen, she stretched her tired appendages out, then proceeded to raid the cupboards for some medicine.<p>

Part of her wanted something that would just send her to sleep, so she wouldn't have to keep walking around and feeling this way. The rest of her wanted to stay awake as long as possible, hopefully (though impossible) forever, so she wouldn't have to deal with the resulting nightmares that would just make her so fearful in her own safe living quarters.

"Looking for this?" Came a voice from behind, startling her slightly; luckily, she immediately recognized the voice, and felt herself instinctively relax.

Turning, she found Steve standing just beside her, holding out a bottle of Advil with a slightly concerned, but mostly warm, smile on his face.

She snatched the bottle from his hand without a word, setting it on the counter with a little more force than necessary. She then popped the cap off, pouring two tablets into her hand - if she even thought of taking more, she knew Steve would intercept - and lifted them to her mouth.

But Steve still stopped her. "I thought we've established that dry-swallowing is _not _healthy."

Freezing her motions at his calm, but still disapproving words, she scowled, lowering her hand with the two pills. But she didn't dare cast her eyes back in his direction again.

Instead, she found a glass of water placed in front of her a moment later. Steve didn't say anything, and neither did she. They stood in silence for a few moments, engaged in one of their usual mental battles of will.

Both Avengers could be so stubborn, that it wasn't that surprising, really.

But Natasha quickly caved as her head throbbed once more. With a sigh, she picked up the glass, and consumed the pills the "proper" way, ignoring Steve's toothy grin of triumph.

As she set the glass down, its_ thud _of glass hitting marble filling the silence of the room, she closed the bottle, and handed it back to Steve. "You can put this back now."

He hesitated, and Natasha could see out of her peripheral vision that he was scanning her over to try and pinpoint how she was _really _feeling. She was uncomfortable under his gaze, and impatiently shook the bottle, the rattling of all the little caplets inside quickly drawing his attention away from her.

With his lips pressed into a thin line, he took the bottle, and returned it to its original spot in the cabinet just behind him. Natasha knew what would probably come next, so she tried to hurry out of the room.

But he grabbed her arm, and stopped her. She suppressed a shiver at the contact, suddenly feeling the cold again.

The cold air that had been present in the weather on that day.

"You're not okay." He stated, his blue eyes staring through her and straight into her soul. She could feel it.

She quickly pulled away, and he didn't protest. He knew she needed her physical space sometimes, but emotionally, she usually needed help that she didn't ask for.

"It doesn't matter. None of this matters." She shot back, her green eyes meeting his with the same intensity.

"But I'm worried-"

"Leave me alone." Natasha felt bad for treating Steve like this, but she needed to get out of there as soon as possible. She couldn't handle it. She felt the panic begin to bubble up inside of her. She needed an out.

So, as Steve stared at her sadly, taken aback by her sharp words, she took advantage of the moment, and fled the room.

Turning down a different hall this time, Natasha began heading toward her bedroom. At this point, sleep seemed like a better option. Between seeing her nightmares in the conscious world and the unconscious world, she was starting to opt for the latter.

Either way, both were out of her control.

"Lady Natasha!" Thor's booming voice came from her own room, and she then saw the Asgardian poke his head out of her door, quickly catching sight of her approaching. His face broke out into a huge grin.

"There you are! I have been searching high and low for you! I figured you may be in your living quarters, but, alas, you are here now."

Natasha stopped when she was a few feet away - not as close as she normally stood by her teammates, which Thor noticed - and stared at him, exhaustion creeping into her expression. "What do you need, Thor?"

The slight hesitation in his eyes from her appearance faded as pure joy took over his features once again. "I need your advice. As a woman, Lady Widow, surely you know what I shall give Jane on her day of birth? It's coming up soon, and I need to think of a gift, as that is your Midgardian tradition! Is it not?" He looked so excited, so thrilled to be able to celebrate the existence of his significant other.

Natasha felt like she was going to throw up.

Thor stepped out of her room now, stopping just in front of her, closing the suspicious distance between them. "I'm not sure what Midgardian women enjoy to receive as gifts. The Man of Iron suggested some crude, vulgar objects that the Good Captain quickly disagreed with. Lord Steven would be a good man to seek an answer to my inquiry from, I am sure, but he suggested I ask you, as you understand the mind of a present-day Midgardian woman, according to him."

As Thor continued to talk, Natasha felt worse and worse with each word. She couldn't catch her breath - her lungs seemed to refuse to work - and she felt her throat go dry. If she started heaving, she knew nothing would come out; she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. She hadn't even felt hungry in _days. _

Thor, having become better at reading "Midgardian" body cues, noticed her trouble, and stepped even closer, bringing up a hand to place on her shoulder. "Lady Natasha, are you alright?"

Natasha hated that question _so damn much_. It wasn't fair. No one would understand how she was feeling, which would make the others feel guilty, which would make her feel worse. Despite what the others may have said in regards to her poor health and how she wasn't taking care of herself, she was very much aware of her body's malnourished and uneasy state right now. She didn't need them to tell her that.

"I'm _fine_, Thor, just… I-I can't help you with Jane's gift, I'm sorry." Just saying those words made Natasha's skin crawl, and voices driven by guilt and sorrow prod her inside her mind. She _failed. _She was the reason so many others were suffering. _She wasn't good enough. _

He reached out, reaching out to her hand with a touch so gentle it could rival Bruce's. "Lady Natasha…"

"Thor, please," Natasha suddenly croaked out, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears as she abruptly shrugged his comfort off and turned away, leaving the back of her head to face him, "I just need to be alone. Please, just… Leave me alone, all of you…"

Without another word, Natasha darted off down the hall, with a concerned Thor calling out after her. She ran, turning through random passages and rooms, until she couldn't hear him anymore. Until she couldn't hear _them _anymore.

Until she didn't have to feel any of them anymore.

* * *

><p><em>'Cause though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.<em>

* * *

><p>Finally reaching a dead end in the dining room - Steve seemed to have left the kitchen, <em>thank God <em>- she stopped at the large window overlooking Manhattan. Panting, she realized that much running, even though it was nothing compared to some of the distances she's had to travel on foot before, was probably an imprudent idea with her current health, as she felt dizzy. Considering her lack of food and sleep for days now, it wasn't that surprising. She steadied herself using the large wooden table, reaching out a hand to its cool surface without another thought.

But after a few moments, she realized where she was, and glanced around the empty room sadly. As she looked upon the table, she thought of all the "family dinners," as the team had called it, that had occurred in this room.

All the nights of laughter, arguing, debates, silence, awkwardness, confessions… They had experienced a lot in that room, as dinnertime became the most communal moment of the day, giving the busy group a time to catch up with each other and help break the initial ice of their developing friendships.

Over time, the awkward silences became comfortable, the amused chuckles became full-on uncontrollable fits of laughter, the ethical arguing became friendly bickering, the professional work relationships became friendship…

The friendship became love.

They became a family, a very dysfunctional family, over the few years they all spent together. Maybe they all banded together to just try and fill the empty voids in their hearts, the lack of love and comfort they all experienced for so long driving them to seek the missing pieces in each other.

It, of course, drove Fury up the wall. They began to further their friendships by embarking on silly quests of mischief together, often pranking innocent S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or occasionally causing a scene during a public outing gone wrong. As their handler, Coulson knew everyone's backstories relatively well, and only tried to stop them from doing things when it became too public or too dangerous. Otherwise, he seemed to just turn away during the rest of their mischief, knowing it would ultimately bring the six lonely souls closer together.

And it did. They were able to fulfill missions beautifully, saving so many lives along the way.

So, then, why did Tony have to build that _thing_?

That thing that destroyed everything. Innocent people lost their lives, caught in the crossfire when the destruction hit the streets, just like the Battle of New York again.

Except, this time, the Avengers hadn't been so lucky.

* * *

><p><em>There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back. <em>

_Well, tell her that I miss our little talks. _

* * *

><p>Natasha wasn't sure when she had gone from standing up next to the table, to down on her knees, on the floor, doubled over and sobbing into her hands. She never lost control. Ever. What was going on?<p>

But a hand on her back took her by surprise, accompanied by a soft voice. "It's okay to let it out, you know. No need to hold back under circumstances like these."

The owner of the voice was not usually so gentle, but Natasha didn't react to that fact. She just focused on regaining control of her emotions, forcing the tears to slow, leaving no sound but an occasional sniffle from escaping her.

"Why are you here?" There was a hard undercurrent to her now hoarse voice, as it shaped the tone of her words sharply. It sounded hateful and venomous, but she didn't try to amend it.

"You're my best friend, Natasha. You know that I love you and all of the other Avengers just as much; I can't let you suffer alone like this."

Tony's gentle words only infuriated Natasha. She could suddenly feel the presence of everyone being in the room now, and turned to look at Tony, crouched down beside her, with a look of disgust.

"Really? Then _why _did you build the thing that ended up _killing _you and everyone else?"

Tony looked hurt for a moment, and Natasha caught sight of the other four standing a few feet away, off to the side.

She wasn't done.

"_All _of you, just… Just _go away_! I get it, I don't deserve to be the only one alive. The world doesn't need me, it needs their Captain America, and their Iron Man, and Asgard needs Thor! _I am not the hero the world needs._"

She was yelling, she was crying, her face was red, and she was tired. So tired.

"You five are supposed to be _dead_. So, why are you here? Why are you haunting me? Am I not suffering enough already? Why do I need to see my worst nightmare when I'm awake?"

When she slept, she dreamed. Her mind was constantly plagued by the images of her best friends dying in front of her, screaming in agony, begging for her to save them. And she never made it in time.

But, when she was awake… She was disturbed by a different kind of nightmare. They wandered the halls all day long. They followed her around. They _talked _to her, and even _touched _her. They acted as if everything in the world was okay.

She was living the nightmare of what should have been, what was supposed to be.

"Natashalie," Tony's calm voice drew her out of her blind fit of anger, as she unclenched her tight fists, "We're here for you."

He proceeded to pull her into an embrace so warm, so realistic, that Natasha was sure it was real. But she knew it wasn't.

"I'm sorry I built Ultron… I-I didn't think…" Tony was so choked up, he couldn't finish, and Natasha regretted her harsh words immediately. Tony had always acted so nonchalant, so confident and detached, that making him show emotion almost always felt just as bad as making Thor upset, as he always seemed so innocent.

"Look, Tasha, I screwed up, big time, I know. Words don't even begin to explain how bad my judgment was." Tony continued after composing himself. "I know the blood is on my hands, and I'm so sorry we had to leave you alone here to continue the job."

Natasha could feel her tears resurfacing at Tony's words. She was so lost without her team, so troubled. And, yet, here she was, torturing herself by imagining them with her all the time, even after they were long gone.

"Nat, we'll always be with you. You know, that kind of sentimental Disney movie crap." Clint's voice came from the side, and she could feel his arms around her. Now craving the contact, she leaned into his touch, and closed her eyes.

"I'm with Clint, though I think Disney movies are okay." Bruce added with a good-humored expression next, his hand rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back.

"Disney movies are quite divine! The archer speaks lies." Thor declared, standing protectively over the group. Natasha couldn't fight her smile at his declaration.

"I'm sorry you had to live through all of this alone, Natasha…" Steve said softly, grabbing hold of one of her hands in his much larger ones. "But, I'm telling you, let go."

Natasha opened her eyes at Steve's words, silently marveling in the comforting presence of her family. She looked at each of them sadly. "I had to watch all of you die and disappear once already. Now I'm seeing you all again, and you want me to let you all go?"

Her voice cracked at the end, but she was too exhausted to care.

Tony chuckled, momentarily distracting them all. "Just a few minutes ago, you were going on, and on, and on, about us getting the hell out of your hair, and now you want us to stay?"

Normally, Natasha would lash out at Tony for his sass, but she found herself wanting nothing more than for him to continue the snarky comments. She had missed it dearly. She wanted to hide in his sarcastic words, hide away from the truth of it all.

"Let us go, Natasha… We'll meet again someday, I just know it." Clint's quiet words, drew her gaze to him. She could see it in his eyes; the longing to move on, but the equally strong urge to stay together forever.

"We'll see each other again before then, too; I just know it." Bruce added.

"The Man of Science speaks truth. Even on Asgard, the dead is among the living, always. I believe you have a similar rule about the creation and destruction of life here on Midgard?"

"Matter cannot be created, nor destroyed." Tony provided.

"Aye, that is right. The lives of the dead continue to live, even if not always tangible to the fully living. I know that when my mother died, her soul ascended into the night sky, and became a beautiful new cluster of stars, always shining upon Asgard and watching over us."

"We may not exactly become stars, but Thor is right. We'll be here." Steve said.

"Always." Clint added, pressing a kiss to Natasha's forehead.

Natasha took a deep breath, racking her brain to remember exactly what her teammates' felt like when surrounding her body like this. Since Thor's words, they all moved closer to her, surrounding her and protecting her, as if validating their assurances that they'd always be here for her.

But, as she started mentally preparing herself to let go, she found tears falling from her eyes again. She quickly wiped them, but they refused to stop.

"Natasha, it's okay. We'll all be okay." Tony said slowly, and she nodded against his arm that was currently draped over her shoulder.

"You're right… It will be. Just… Wait for me, okay?"

"We'll be there when you come, I promise." Clint swore.

"We're not going anywhere." Bruce assured her.

She could feel them fading.

"Wait, I don't think I'm ready-"

"Goodbye, Natasha." She could feel Steve give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"You have been a valiant warrior, and reverent ally, Lady Widow." Thor.

"Love ya, Natashalie. Take care of the tower, now, will ya?" Tony.

"See you soon." Bruce.

"I always knew you were a good person, Tasha. We _will _meet again soon, and then we can spar again." Clint.

Natasha's vision swam, and darkness crept into her vision. She swallowed the lump in her throat as new tears found their way to her eyes, and she clung to her friends with a tight grip as she let them slip away.

* * *

><p><em>You're gone, gone, gone away, I watched you disappear; all that's left is a ghost of you. <em>

_Now we're torn, torn, torn apart, there's nothing we can do; just let me go, we'll meet again soon. _

_Now wait, wait, wait for me, please hang around; _

_I'll see you when I fall asleep_.

* * *

><p>When Natasha woke next, she felt utterly refreshed. She hadn't slept that well in weeks, maybe even months.<p>

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the framed picture of the Avengers on the table next to her. It was after a long mission, and they were covered in sweat and debris and bruises, but they all wore goofy smiles and had their arms around each other.

Of course, Tony was sprawled out on the ground in front of them, making gestures with his hands. That wasn't surprising, though she briefly remembered Steve asking him about it at the time.

Natasha hadn't felt so renewed in a while. She didn't think much of it for a few seconds, closing her eyes again and relaxing, when it hit her.

The cold feeling was gone; she actually felt quite warm. That tangible detail of the day of their battle with Ultron was finally out of her nerve system.

She also couldn't feel _them_ anymore. They really were gone.

She was alone.

She was free.

And so were they.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Why, why did I write this? I got choked up writing this, dear God. This was all inspired by the song "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men.I used the lines that inspired me the most to separate the story into little sections. Clint's, Bruce's, and Steve's order of appearances are all also based upon the lines of the first verse. After that, it was kind of a free for all with Thor and Tony. Also, it's implied here that this is basically a version of _Age of Ultron _gone wrong, though I left out all the other characters (Pepper, Wanda, Pietro, etc.). Even though the movie's coming out in May, I kind of put it more towards March in this story to leave Natasha with a lingering feeling of the cold weather from that day.


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